Scars Never Shown
by Ethereal Wishes
Summary: Her backside was covered in an array of faint red marks, but so was his. He told her never to be ashamed of her scars because we all have them. Some people just choose not to show theirs.


**Scars Never Shown**

 **A/AN: This is going to be a three part fic. Reviews are lovely!**

Carol groaned in agony as Daryl deposited her gently onto the cement floor. They'd just taken out another outpost filled with saviors – nearly a dozen of them to be exact. They'd holed themselves up in a warehouse until daybreak, and she'd cut her backside on a stray piece of glass jutting through a shattered window pane.

"Lemme see it," he instructed, bringing her to a standing position. "Gotta s' how bad yer 'urt."

Carol felt her blood run cold at his request. She held on tightly to her tank top, shaking her head fiercely. "I can't."

"Y' gotta. I can't let y' bleed out," he mumbled, gently reaching for the fabric.

Carol sighed. She knew he was right. They needed to see how badly she was injured before they trekked on. They had another entire outpost left to seize.

"Alright," she consented, sucking in a deep breath and raising her shirt for him to see. Her thin bra strap was visible. He noted the faded red impressions on her back. His back was similar – a canvas his father had enjoyed painting with his own blood to extinguish his rage, though it was never sated.

Carol shuddered as his fingertips gently grazed her backside as he examined the cut. "Looks like you'll need stitches. I'll patch it up with what's in the first aid kit fer now," he mumbled, releasing the hem of her shirt and pulling it back down.

"You brought a first aid kit?" she inquired, glancing at him quizzically.

"Yeah," he simply stated, taking out some antiseptic wipes and a clean bandage. "Hold still. 'S might hurt a little." He raised up her shirt again, gingerly wiping away the caked blood. Carol bit back a curse as the alcohol stung her exposed skin like a hoard of angry bees. The pain subsided as he pressed a clean dressing against the wound.

"Thank you, Dr. Dixon," she winced, attempting to lighten the mood.

"Y' should rest for a few hours." he instructed her.

"We don't have time. We need to be heading over to that other outpost," she countered.

" 'Chonne and Rosita will handle it. They're our backup. I'll radio em'," he remarked before she could object.

"They're gonna take care of it. Said it was a small 'n," he replied, settling down beside her on the ground. "We'll regroup in a few hours."

Carol nodded wordlessly, rubbing her pant leg absentmindedly. She diverted her gaze to the dingy walls covered in graffiti. She didn't dare utter a word. She knew he'd seen them, though he hadn't said anything.

After a long pause, she dared a glance at him. He was studying her intently, waiting for her to open up to him like she always had. "Ed, he used to beat me severely, and that's where I got those scars," she spilled, her tongue felt as thick as peanut-butter as she made her confession.

"I used to be my old man's personal whipping post. Y' ain't got nothin' to be 'shamed of. We all have scars. Ain't nobody been exempt from it. Some people just choose not to show theirs'," he replied, a far off look in his eyes.

Carol wiped the tears from her eyes, interlacing their fingers. He flinched slightly, caught off guard by her gesture, but he didn't pull away, instead he squeezed her hand, holding onto it securely.

"You and I – we're both going to survive this," she reassured him.

Daryl chuckled dryly. "I hope so because it's the only thing I'm good at."

"No, it's not, you're also a good listener, the best actually," she smiled, stroking his cheek with the back of her hand lightly. He shuddered but didn't pull away. Before he could retort, Michonne came over the radio saying they'd cleared the outpost.

"We'll meet you back at the Hilltop, over and out" Carol replied, snapping the walkie onto her utility belt.

"Ready to go, Pookie?" she smirked, calling him by his old pet name.

"Y' better get that checked out when we get back," he remarked gruffly, masking his true emotions.

Carol smiled softly, leaning over and placing a kiss against his cheek. "Affirmative, Dr. Dixon, and thank you for taking care of me."

Before he could reply, a slew of gunfire sprayed through the window. He grabbed Carol, shielding her from the assault. He crawled until they were underneath an armed vehicle. He pulled her close to his chest, placing his index finger to her lips to silence her. Carol buried her face in his vest – her heartbeat a rapid tattoo against her breast. It felt as if they'd been under there for hours, and she found herself too frozen with fear to move. He gazed at her as she moved her hand to graze his backside. She gasped when she retracted her hand to see a sticky red substance dripping from her fingers.

"Daryl, you've been shot! We have to get you out of here!" she cried, attempting to pull away from him.

"Naw, I ain't. I didn't feel nothin'," he whispered harshly.

"Yes, you have!" she growled, grabbing her walkie from her belt loop. "Michonne, this is Carol. We need backup at the old warehouse on Oakley. Daryl has been shot. Over and out."

"Sending backup, hold on! Over and out!" Michonne's voice resounded through the radio.

"Hold on, Daryl! Please, hold on," she pleaded, holding on to him tentatively.

"Gotta be," he mumbled, his eyes fluttering open and shut.

"Stay with me, Daryl," Carol begged, praying her companions made it to them in time.

"Carol, I-" he halted, reaching up to trace her delicate features. His vision began to wane as he fought to stay conscious. "'S gonna be okay." His words slurred together as more gunfire resounded within the warehouse. Carol held onto him tightly as he attempted to move, but then he felt the pain. It was unbearable, and he couldn't will his ligaments to move.

"Go, and take my crossbow," he muttered, pushing it into her hands.

"No, I-"

"Go! I'm gonna die anyway! No need of us both dyin'. The group needs y'!"

Carol attempted to stifle back the tears misting behind her eyes as she leaned in, pressing her lips hungrily against his. Daryl's heartbeat sped up from her insane gesture. He cradled the back of her head momentarily, kissing her back with the same amount of ferocity she'd kissed him with.

"Go, please," he pleaded, pushing her away.

Tears leaked from her eyes as she choked back a sob. She kissed his forehead affectionately before releasing him. She wordlessly scrambled from underneath the vehicle, and the next thing he heard was shouting before he blacked out.


End file.
